


i saw you in golden light

by sanskrits



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Implied Asexual Agatha, M/M, Oblivious Baz, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17701331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanskrits/pseuds/sanskrits
Summary: Baz lies awake at night and the cold is unshakable. He’s layered with blankets, but he’s still cold. Too cold. He wishes he was warmer, he wishes he was whole, he wishes he had a soul.He just wants a soulmate, he tells the universe quietly on these nights. He doesn’t care who. He’s not picky. He just wants a soulmate, he begs the universe silently — someone to remind him he might not be totally heartless after all.Baz remembers the nights he spent when he was younger, asking the universe for a soulmate. The exercise feels foolish now. He would rather have no soulmate at all than this curse — Simon Snow for a soulmate, the straight Simon Snow, who would never love him, as a soulmate…This soul bond is clearly unrequited. It’s rare but not altogether unheard of — sometimes soul bonds aren’t reciprocated. It’s just Baz’s luck that he’s happened to get saddled with the Chosen One. The golden god of a Chosen One.





	i saw you in golden light

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! this is my very first fic on AO3 and also in this fandom. i'm not sure if i'll post any more fics, let alone snowbaz, but here's a shitty soulmate AU for you to enjoy - i hope you like it! :)
> 
> victoria

 

Baz spends most of his childhood in denial.

He is not a vampire, he does not need blood, he is alive, and he definitely has a soulmate. He refuses to believe that one little bite had the power to make him soulless. Baz is a Pitch and his mother did not perish to leave him ruined and undead. 

He would get his mark eventually. By eighteen years old, he would know. If one didn’t have a soul mark by their eighteenth birthday, they didn’t have a soulmate at all.

There would be a name etched onto his right wrist if he got lucky. Or there would be a word describing his soulmate. Or the word would be what his soulmate thought about him. There would be  _ something  _ on his wrist when he got older — there had to be.

But as he grows much stronger than he should be and much faster than he should be and a bit of a rumble settles itself permanently into his stomach and it feels like he’s graying to nothing, Baz has to accept it. He’s a vampire. Someday he’ll have to drink blood to stay alive. And he’s not alive himself.

He knows when he’s eight and Father marries a woman named Daphne and the ceremony is joyous and everyone’s smiling and everything is gray to Baz. They are all alive and Baz can feel the energy thrumming in the air. It’s missing from him. There is something missing from him.

A year later Daphne gives birth to a girl. They name her Mordelia. Baz takes one look at the little baby in Daphne’s arms and knows that she’s the kind of lively he’ll never be. He hates her for it and loves her for it at the same time. He wants what she has, but he’s grateful. Mordelia Grimm is a whole child. Not like him.

Baz lies awake at night and the cold is unshakable. He’s layered with blankets, but he’s still cold. Too cold. He wishes he was warmer, he wishes he was whole, he wishes he had a soul. 

He just wants a soulmate, he tells the universe quietly on these nights. He doesn’t care who. He’s not picky. He just wants a soulmate, he begs the universe silently — someone to remind him he might not be totally heartless after all.

(There is a choking fear that settles into his throat. It tells him that his prayers will not be answered.)

. . .

On his first day at Watford Baz is fearful that the Crucible won’t pull him to anyone at all. He’s not whole and he thinks the Crucible might sense it. Can you get a roommate if you’re dead?

The Mage, decked out in his ridiculous Robin Hood garb, pulls out the Crucible. At first, Baz doesn’t feel anything and he thinks, panicked,  _ This is it, I’m done for, everyone’s going to know now and I won’t get a roommate and they’ll kick me out…  _

But then he feels it. A sharp tug in his gut. It’s abrupt, and it hurts a little to resist, but Baz has dignity and isn’t going to go running to his roommate without any kind of class.

He follows the keen pull of his gut toward the boy that’s distinctly not like the others. He has bronze curls piled on his head like wool, eyes in the most unremarkable shade of blue, and entirely too many freckles and moles. He looks patchy, for lack of a better word, and this is amplified by his baggy clothing that seems to be tattered and worn in places.

Baz knows who he is. Simon Snow. The Mage’s Heir.

The Chosen One.

He’d rather be kicked out of school than living with this boy for eight years. But he ends up staying anyway because this is Watford and his mother was worth something, after all.

. . .

At first, Baz pushes Simon Snow because it’s expected of him. Then he does it because it’s just about the closest thing he might get to having a soul bond with someone, and Baz knows the only way to get anything out of Simon Snow as a Pitch is to push him. 

So he does. He pushes and pushes and pushes until Snow goes off. Baz keeps going.

. . .

In his fifth year at Watford Baz develops the need to drink blood. He’s had his fangs for a while now and he’d seen this coming from a mile away, but it still feels disgusting. Abominable. 

And Snow catches on.

When Baz leaves the room, Snow’s narrowed blue eyes follow him. When he enters, the eyes are watching him. He can feel the eyes on him when he talks to Dev and Niall. The eyes say accusingly,  _ Vampire,  _ and the tongue parrots it soon enough.  _ Vampire. Plotting. Vampire. Vampire…  _

And then the feet follow. The Wavering Wood becomes too risky to hunt in, because if Snow were to follow him off-grounds, things would definitely not end well. Baz starts eating exclusively rats in the Catacombs, and the Catacombs are so labyrinthine that he manages to lose Snow most times.

He tends to end up at his mother’s grave, dusting off the gravestone, magickally growing flowers for her. He traces the name:  _ Natasha Grimm-Pitch.  _

She would be disappointed in him. He’s sorry for that.

Snow shows up at football practice, begins following him from class to class, and it seems Baz can never catch a break. Snow is always in sight and always in mind. Snow’s in the room, Snow’s out of the room, Snow’s calling out for him in the bloody Catacombs, and Baz is losing his mind.

And it seems Snow’s courting Agatha Wellbelove, the pretty blonde with the mesmerizing golden eyes. A true chosen couple. It stirs something ugly in Baz’s chest, and he tries to press it down. 

He’s not upset because Wellbelove is interested in Snow. He’s upset because Snow is interested in Wellbelove. It scares him more than the thought of Snow catching onto his secret.

Some days Baz lies awake and watches Simon Snow. He thinks about his wooly hair and his unremarkable eyes and how he loves them. He thinks about the freckles and the moles and how he wants nothing more than to kiss them. He thinks about how he’s falling in love with his roommate, the Chosen One, the Mage’s Heir, and he hates Snow.

More than that, he hates himself for being so foolish. He will have to kill Snow one day.

_ He will kill you instead,  _ he realizes.  _ And you’ll let him because you’re weak.  _

Simon Snow is golden, a bronze god, untouchable, sunlike in his ferocity. Baz is flammable.

But he’s also a Pitch. And Pitches love playing with fire.

So he pushes even harder. He taunts Simon and smirks at Wellbelove even though he knows it will do nothing. He mocks Snow when he hears his footsteps. He leads him around in circles and lets the hate in his heart fester.

One day Baz wakes up in the middle of the night to a searing pain in his right wrist. He knows what this is: he’d studied soulmates fastidiously when he was younger, desperate to know how it would feel. To at least  _ read  _ how it would feel.

Baz hadn’t expected to get a soulmate. He’d almost forgotten they were real. He’d prayed when he was younger, late nights in the too-cold-too-large gargoyle bed, asking for a soulmate. Any soulmate. Someone to remind him that he’s real and somewhat alive.

It feels like a betrayal, to have fallen in love with Snow when there’s someone out there waiting for him. A girl, maybe. Baz doesn’t know.

Hissing, he makes his way to the bathroom, coordinating himself and careful not to wake up Snow. He turns the light on and pushes up his sleeve, watching as a capital  _ S  _ stitches itself into his skin, dark as ebony in contrast to his light skin, the strokes of an invisible brush swirling the end of it. It stings a little going in, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the first feelings of the soulmark.

A sinking feeling settles into Baz’s gut, but he pushes it down.  _ S  _ doesn’t mean anything — not what he thinks it means.

A lowercase  _ i  _ follows. The dot forms its impeccable shape and another stroke of black swishes onto his skin, starting straight up and curving downward, followed by an identical motion —  _ m. _

_ No,  _ Baz thinks, horrified, watching as the letters  _ o  _ and  _ n  _ etch themselves into his skin like a death sentence.

_ Simon,  _ his soulmark spells. But it’s not done yet. Baz can only keep his eyes affixed to his wrist, wide with terror, as  _ Snow  _ forms right next to it.

_ Simon Snow _ , his soulmark says when it’s done. The letters should feel comforting, reassuring even. Instead they feel ominous. Like Baz is sitting at the edge of a guillotine.

Baz remembers the nights he spent when he was younger, asking the universe for a soulmate. The exercise feels foolish now. He would rather have no soulmate at all than this curse — Simon Snow for a soulmate, the straight Simon Snow, who would never love him, as a soulmate…

This soul bond is clearly unrequited. It’s rare but not altogether unheard of — sometimes soul bonds aren’t reciprocated. It’s just Baz’s luck that he’s happened to get saddled with the Chosen One. The golden god of a Chosen One.

It would be better if it were to disappear. Just vanish — 

Baz’s face sets with determination. This night, he decides, had never happened. There is no soulmark.

He points his wand at his wrist, holding it with his left hand. “ **_There’s nothing to see here,_ ** ” Baz whispers, and he watches as the dark lines, newly formed, fade back in to milky skin.

There is no soulmark. Baz has no soulmate.

. . .

Baz tries to convince himself his soulmark is inconsequential. At any rate, he has to see it every day when he gets in the shower and spells it away freshly, because the spell fades after 24 hours. It only makes him angrier.

And seeing Snow everywhere with Wellbelove and throwing his golden self and his golden girlfriend in his face makes him angrier, too, just reminding him of everything he can never have. They’re sickeningly happy together. Baz hates it and them and himself most of all.

Fiona comes to him with a tape recorder and tells him it will get rid of Simon Snow. It will take his voice and therefore, his source of magic. It will take him out of Watford.

Baz thinks of his soulmark on him like a scab he wants to pick away but can’t and says yes. He keeps the recorder in his pocket for months. In those months he manages to accidentally “push” Snow down the stairs and sic a chimera on him.

The hate in Snow’s heart doubles and it quadruples in Baz’s. No matter how much Snow loathes him, Baz loathes him more. It’s all his fault, his fault for doing this to Baz, his fault for being Baz’s unrequited soulmate, his fault his fault his fault. 

Baz takes to wearing a bandage around his wrist because he can’t stand to look at his soulmark, even when he spells it invisible. The loopy script is mockingly perfect, almost as if someone was happy when they wrote it. Baz hates it almost more than he hates Snow.

He almost hates Snow more than he hates himself.

. . .

Snow’s soulmark sets in at the end of the year. His eyes are fixed on Baz when it happens, following, accusing, whispering. Then all of it comes to an abrupt stop when his eyes set upon his wrist and his lips form a different kind of hiss: one of pain instead of allegation. Snow doesn’t seem to care that Baz is around to see him get his soulmark. He pushes up his sleeve, confused at first, but his face melts when he watches inky black letters weave onto his skin.

The first one is a lowercase  _ g.  _ Its stroke curls up and into the next letter: a perfectly carved  _ o. _

At the end, Simon Snow’s soulmark spells out  _ golden.  _ Baz already knows Snow isn’t his soulmate back, but for some reason this still feels like a punch to the gut. Maybe somewhere inside him he’d been hoping that fate hadn’t been playing a cruel joke on him. Hope is a bad thing, Baz has learned over the years. Somehow his heart hadn’t gotten the memo.

_ Golden.  _ Who else could that be but Agatha Wellbelove? 

Baz wishes for one moment — to have a golden soulmate. One like Snow’s. And then he remembers that he already has one, and that golden is more of a curse than a blessing. 

Wishes are bad things too. Foolish — more so than hope.

. . .

Wellbelove doesn’t have her soulmark yet, but the school is already buzzing with glee:  _ Simon Snow’s soulmate is his girlfriend, would you believe how lucky —? _

Baz hates it. He hates Snow, he hates Snow’s soulmark, he hates his own cursed one, he hates Wellbelove, he hates himself.

The next day Baz has the recorder in hand. He just wants everything to go away. And he presses click but it’s not Snow speaking, it’s not his voice — it’s a more high-pitched one, it’s one that sounds hopeful (foolish) and Baz presses stop, he tries to get the damn recorder to stop, but it doesn’t let up until the breathy voice is gone.

Philippa Stainton leaves instead of Simon Snow. Baz hates even more. Baz hates the way Snow looks at him now — the gaze has shifted from accusatory to disgusted. He hates himself for letting it happen.

There are eyes following him and lips whispering harsh words instead of the sweet ones he wants and there are feet following him everywhere and Baz just wants it to  _ stop damn it stop just stop — _

. . .

That summer he tries to let go. Stop thinking about Simon Snow and his golden, godlike glory. He doesn’t tell his family about the soulmark. He keeps spelling it even though there’s no one but him that’s really going to see it. It’s all routine. Out of sight, out of mind. If there’s no soulmark in sight Baz can pretend it doesn’t exist and if Simon Snow isn’t in sight Baz can pretend he doesn’t exist either. Baz is willing to pretend anything to make his feelings go away. 

He does tell them part of the truth, though. Baz is definitely gay, and that’s not the kind of thing he’s going to hide from his family. Things are tense for a while after he comes out, but then it gets somewhat normal and Father takes to ignoring the obvious elephant in the room that is Baz. 

Baz is used to it. Father won’t even so much as acknowledge the fact that his son is a vampire. He doesn’t expect anything different.

. . .

Baz resolves to ignore Snow this year. Things are different now. After a whole summer away and the end-of-year debacle, maybe Snow will have cooled down. Things might settle. 

He just needs to not push. And it might be hard but he’s got to do it because he’s not sure how much more he can take. He doesn’t want to find out.

When he returns to Watford he is relieved to find that Snow has at least given up on following him. But the accusatory glare still tracks him. Whispers the words his mind tells him at night.

_ Vampire. Monster. Abomination. _

And Crowley, Simon Snow in all his golden bronze-god glory standing there with his perfect girlfriend makes Baz want to burn. 

Maybe he already is burning. Maybe he always has been.

. . .

Snow and Wellbelove are sickening this year because Snow’s given up on following him. It’s odd because this is exactly what Baz wants and yet there’s a part of him that craves it. The attention. The knowing that in some small way he mattered to Simon Snow. That Snow thought of him even if those thoughts weren’t pleasant.

Now he just smiles and laughs and he doesn’t think of Baz. And all Baz thinks about is him. Him and his curls and his moles. 

Crowley. When did Baz get so smitten? (And what’s going to make it stop?)

. . .

Baz is retying the bandage onto his wrist — he takes it off before he showers — when he hears Snow and Bunce talking. So early in the morning, too. If Bunce is sitting on his bed Baz might just set something on fire.

“Her soulmark still hasn’t set in,” Snow is saying. Presumably he’s talking about Wellbelove, judging by the worried tone his voice has taken on.

“She’ll get one, Simon. She’s probably just a late bloomer. Not everyone gets their soulmark at the same time. Just relax,” says Bunce’s voice, trying to soothe. 

And Crowley, Baz knows he shouldn’t feel good about this. He knows Wellbelove will get her soulmark eventually and things will go sealed into fate. He has no chance. There’s no other soul tied to his because he’s not alive. He doesn’t have a soul for anyone else to tether to. But that doesn’t mean he can’t tether himself to someone else.

Hence the marks on his arm. Baz says “ **_There’s nothing to see here_ ** ” a little more forcefully than necessary and the bandage fades, taking the words with it.

. . .

Sixth year ends without much incident and before Baz knows it it’s seventh year at Watford.

Just one more to go. And maybe Snow might do him a favor, skip eighth year and spare Baz the heartache. But that’s wishful thinking. Baz doesn’t need to be counting down years because this one hasn’t even started yet.

Somehow he’s already sick of it. He walks into his room and Snow is already there, says, “Ate some nice rats, Baz, killed them good?” as greeting and Baz replies, “You know it, Snow, can’t hide my fangs from you” in turn. Almost automatically. It feels like he’s running on autopilot these days. Just sticking by the script. It’s easy if he forgets that he’s ridiculously in love with Simon Snow. 

. . .

For some reason Agatha Wellbelove seems to be taking an interest in Baz. Dev nudges him at lunch, tells him, “Wellbelove is checking you out,” and sure enough, her eyes are on him when he glances over a few moments later. Baz turns back, frowns almost imperceptibly. 

Odd. Isn’t she supposed to be living paradise with her Chosen One boyfriend?

Baz remembers Snow and Bunce talking about soulmarks earlier — how Wellbelove hadn’t gotten hers. Does she have it now? 

Or maybe she really doesn’t have a soulmate. He thinks the questions might be coming to him soon enough. He’s faking it, he knows that. Maybe she’s not. 

“Speaking of love lives,” Niall says through a mouthful of pie, cutting through Baz’s thoughts, “have you  _ seen _ …”

. . .

“Baz?” Snow calls out. It must be 3 in the morning. Maybe later. Baz is awake because he’s never really been able to sleep well and today’s no exception, but Snow is usually asleep by now. He debates saying something back. Asking him at the very least what he wants. But he waits for Snow to talk first because he’s not really sure what else to do.

“Do you have your soulmark?”

Snow’s the first one to ask him. Baz is sure Dev and Niall have been wondering about his soulmark. They’d both gotten theirs last year. Dev’s says  _ charming,  _ which he says is not useful at all, and Niall’s says  _ funny.  _ Terrible soulmarks, if you ask Baz. But he’d rather have  _ funny  _ than  _ Simon Snow  _ etched on his wrist like a curse.

“No,” Baz finally answers. He might as well take pride in the lie. If people start asking he’s got to have answers for them. “Why?”

“No reason, I just — do you think it’s possible for someone not to have a soulmate? You just never talk about yours. I mean, I know we don’t talk, but you know about my soulmark; everyone talks about soulmarks, but you don’t.”

Snow is surprisingly observant. Baz knows he’s been tight-lipped about his personal life but maybe soulmarks aren’t that personal to Snow. He’s not sure. But Baz is pretty sure Snow’s worried about Agatha. 

“I think it’s possible. I’m pretty sure I don’t,” he answers. A half-truth. He has a soulmate. One-sided bond. His soulmate is sleeping in the bed right across from him. 

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch,” Baz says. “I’m turning eighteen in a few months. Pretty sure if I had a soulmate they’d’ve shown up on me by now.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re a vampire?” asks Snow. Somehow he doesn’t sound judgemental. But Baz is already lying to him. 

“I’m not a vampire, Snow,” Baz says. He’s surprised how genuine the tiredness in his voice sounds. Maybe it is. He is really tired of playing the game of cat-and-mouse. “I just don’t have a soulmate.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you like. I’m going to sleep.”

Baz is lying again.

. . .

After that Snow starts watching Baz again. Not like he’s a monster but with curiosity. Like Baz is some kind of puzzle he can’t figure out.

The accusations start again when Agatha Wellbelove sits down with him in Magic Words and makes conversation with him.

“Hello, Basil.”

“Good morning.”

“How’s the assignment going?”

“Well. Yours?”

“Having a bit of trouble, to be honest. If you don’t mind —”

“You forgot **get well soon.** ”

“Oh! I hadn’t even realized… sorry…”

“No problem. Glad I could help.”

She smiles a bright smile at him, flashes her front teeth. Baz isn’t sure how to convey to her without actually saying the words that he’s gay and in love with her boyfriend. He can feel Snow’s eyes settling on his back, gaze burning holes into his clothes. 

He smiles back. It’s tight. He wants to leave, hide in the Catacombs. Anything to get away.

. . .

Snow is scowling at him again. Considering Baz hasn’t done anything to provoke him except sit down and drink his damn tea, he assumes this is about Wellbelove. Niall says, “Crowley, the way he’s watching you…”

“Merlin,” Dev marvels. “What’d you do this time?”

“Sit down and drink my tea, apparently,” says Baz shortly. “I think Snow’s just taking the piss. He’ll get over himself soon enough.”

“I don’t think so, mate,” Niall mutters. “He looks about ready to commit a murder.”

“Good for him,” Baz deadpans. But he can feel a storm coming. And he’s pretty sure Snow’s going to unleash it on him.

Sure enough, after Magic Words, Snow confronts him a little angrily. Agatha’s smiles at him probably did not help.

“What do you want with Agatha?” he asks, pushing Baz into the wall.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Baz spits, “she’s the one talking to me. Maybe ask  _ her  _ what she wants with  _ me. _ ”

Snow just growls. “I know you’re plotting something, Baz. Just give it up.”

And Crowley, that sentence fills him with so much rage. Why does Snow have to throw out the word  _ plotting  _ at him for everything he does? Not everything is about him. And yes, Baz is hopelessly in love with him and thinks of him more than is necessary, but to be blamed for Snow’s relationship problems when he’s not even the root of them is just too fucking much.

“Seeing as you think my breathing is a plot,” he tells Snow with a façade of calm, “that doesn’t mean much.”

He tries to push Snow away from him, but Snow pushes back, breathes, “Just what is your  _ problem? _ ”

“You.”  _ Always you, Snow.  _ “Now get your hands off me and go fuck yourself.”

. . .

The next time he unintentionally ends up eavesdropping on Snow and Bunce they’re talking about Wellbelove’s mark again. And he’s in the bathroom tying up his soulmark. How  _ déjà vu _ . 

“She doesn’t have one, Penny. She turned eighteen yesterday. And she doesn’t have a soulmark. Or she didn’t say anything about one. Merlin, what if we’re  _ not  _ meant to be?”

So Baz’s suspicions were right, then. He might be faking having no soulmark, but Wellbelove isn’t. He wonders if that bothers her. Maybe that’s why she’s been so nice to him lately. Because he’s never talked about his soulmark. His isn’t in-your-face like everyone else because he’s been magicking it out of sight. 

And it’s so pathetic. He’s pathetic. He can’t even look at his soulmate’s name. 

“Why are you letting a soulmark influence your decisions, Si?” Bunce says, cutting through his thoughts. “If you want to be with her, then be with her. If she hasn’t broken up with you it’s because she wants you. Stop worrying about it. She chooses you, Simon.”

“But — I feel like I’m abandoning this  _ golden  _ person. Who is she, I mean, is she waiting on me?”

“If she knows it’s you it’s her own fault for waiting, Simon. You have to take your own life into your hands,” implores Bunce. “It’s just a tattoo.”

_ Just a tattoo,  _ he thinks, looking at his own faded soulmark.  _ That’s all it is. _

. . .

Snow isn’t in the room. Baz assumes he’s getting up to his usual end-of-year mayhem, and the Catacombs are getting a bit stifling, so he decides to hunt in the Wavering Wood because he needs the fresh air.

Baz is very good at making bad decisions. Because Agatha Wellbelove catches him in the act. 

And shit, he’s not sure how he didn’t notice but maybe it was because he’s already drinking when she arrives and he’s too far gone to deny it.

But he drops the rabbit he’s been drinking from and forces his fangs to retract and wipes the blood from his mouth onto his sleeve. Wellbelove’s mouth is parted in a perfect O, but she’s not Snow. She’s been smiling at him in Magic Words for the past semester. She can be convinced. And maybe Baz will have to pretend he’s not gay and completely in love with her boyfriend but he can do that. He’s been doing that for a while. It’s morally reprehensible to fake interest in Agatha Wellbelove so she doesn’t reveal that he’s a vampire. But his whole existence is pretty much morally reprehensible. And he’s really far gone and he is desperate.

So he sweeps himself up and takes her arms in his. “You can’t tell anyone,” he says. “Please, Agatha. I — I don’t drink from people. I know Snow’s been saying it for years and it’s really rich coming from me but I’m — I’m not a killer. Crowley, Agatha —”

She doesn’t say anything, but in that moment Snow and Bunce come barreling by them. Their eyes are wide, and Agatha lets go of him — whether in shock or guilt or both, Baz doesn’t know. 

Just as suddenly as they came, they’re gone. Baz isn’t really sure what to think. And Agatha Wellbelove just shakes her head and is gone.

Baz is still standing there, rooted to the spot. He’s not sure what just happened.

. . .

Darkness is just about the only thing he knows. Sometimes there’s light when the numpties feed him. But even that is much too bright. 

There are only a few things he holds on to. Thoughts of gold. Simon Snow.

. . .

He’s missed Watford. He’s missed magic. He hasn’t done any for the past fortnight spent in recovery. (Hasn’t been able to spell the soulmark away. Looking at it is sickening.)

But things are different. Baz is tired all the time and hungry all the time and his leg is pretty much always numb.

And Snow won’t stop staring at him. Baz knows he’s been gone for a while, and that reappearing so suddenly is an obvious attention grabber. But that’s who he is — an attention grabber. 

Snow just looks suspicious. Like he’s hiding something. Baz is too tired to figure out what.

And Wellbelove — Baz suspects she and Snow are broken up because she keeps  _ talking  _ to him. Making advances. He knows he was all about faking it at the end of seventh year so she wouldn’t reveal his secrets. But he hadn’t even finished his speech and it doesn’t seem like she’s told anyone. 

He hadn’t even implied interest in her. Just desperation. He’s not even sure he has the energy left to fake it. 

She wants something interesting. Maybe she wants companionship with Baz seeing as they’re the only two in their year who don’t have soulmarks. Baz doesn’t know what she wants but he’s pretty sure it’s not him, just the idea of him. 

He’s no less gay and no less in love with her boyfriend, anyway.  _ Ex-boyfriend,  _ he amends mentally.  _ But not for long.  _ Because they’ll be back together even if they’re not destined. They’re still meant to be — still golden. Nothing’s going to change that.

_ Stop hoping,  _ he tells his traitorous mind.  _ It doesn’t do anyone any good. _

. . .

His mother came to Visit him. And he was gone.

Maybe that’s why he’d been kidnapped in the first place, he muses. But at any rate his kidnapper didn’t account for Simon Snow and his good heart. Even though he hates Baz, he promises to help him. Crowley, it makes Baz want to kill him for being so good, so sweet. Why can’t Snow just be a prick? Make it easier for Baz?

Eventually he brings Bunce along too and Baz starts to see why they’re such good friends. She’s startlingly good company and Baz suspects that Snow wouldn’t even be able to walk straight without her.

She’s curious. Too curious.

“How’d you know?” she asks. “About your soulmark.”

His soulmark is a common topic. It’s widely known he doesn’t have one at this point, because everyone who has a soulmark is either advertising it in hopes of finding the one for them or in a relationship with the one for them. And that’s not him. 

“Kind of always suspected,” he tells her. “When I was seventeen and still didn’t have a soulmark, I pretty much knew for sure.”

Bunce gives him a look that makes him irrationally convinced that she  _ knows  _ somehow. But that’s not right because she can’t. 

She hums under her breath, sounding like she’s considering something. “It’s weird, isn’t it, how it works?”

“I suppose.”

“I don’t know, I” — Bunce sighs momentarily — “I know this is probably really insensitive of me but doesn’t it feel a little lonely to you? To me, I mean, my soulmate, knowing they’re with me all the time, it’s calming, you know? It’s just — how do you deal with it?”

“I’m not really sure,” Baz replies. “It’s not like I see it as some great loss. I never had anything to lose in the first place.”

Bunce makes that  _ hmm  _ sound again. Snow is watching him.

. . .

Bunce figures him out before Christmas break starts. They’re in the midst of their last session in his room and Snow has gone to the dining hall to get some scones.

“You’ve got a soulmate, don’t you?”

Baz sighs. “I suppose it was wishful thinking to assume you wouldn’t figure it out.”

“So?” she prompts. “Who is it?”

Baz barks out a laugh. “So you’re telling me you don’t know who it is?”

“No, I don’t — why are you looking at me like that, you can’t assume I’d bother to figure out who it is out of every girl who goes to Watford? I know it’s not Agatha, as much as Simon’s convinced you’re both hiding the fact that you’re each other’s soulmates.”

“What the fuck is Snow on?” Baz mutters, shaking his head. “Anyway, you’re operating on the assumption that my soulmate’s a girl.”

“Wait — so —  _ oh!  _ I can’t believe myself!” she exclaims, slapping a palm onto her forehead. “Here I go talking about heteronormativity and then… Crowley! You never said you were gay! Or are you bi, is that why you were flirting with Agatha?”

“Gay,” says Baz. “If you’ll recall, it was Wellbelove that was flirting with me.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Oh, like that would go over well. ‘Hey Snow, I know you think I’m plotting to steal your girlfriend but that’s actually not possible because I’m gay as the rainbow and in love with —’”

Baz cuts himself off. Now he’s really gone and fucked things up, said too much. At least he hadn’t said the word  _ you.  _ Then Bunce’s face would be even more bug-eyed than it is now.

“You’re in  _ love  _ with someone?”

Baz sneers. “Just shut up.”

“Who?” she presses.

“As if I’d tell you.”

“You’re assuming I won’t find out.”

“You assumed I was straight.”

“That’s fair.” Bunce shrugs. “But I  _ will  _ find out.” 

Snow takes the most opportune moment to stroll into the room bearing a plateful of hot sour cherry scones courtesy of Cook Pritchard.

“Find out what?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Baz and Bunce say at the same time, sounding extremely suspicious. Snow narrows his eyes.

“Like I believe that,” says Snow. Bunce shrugs at the same time Baz does. He wonders why the hell Bunce is covering for him before he realizes Bunce is trying to  _ soften  _ him and get him to reveal his secrets.

Pining is a game, and Baz is winning at it. Penelope Bunce isn’t about to fuck shit up.

. . .

Pining was a game Baz was winning at until Simon Snow kissed him.

When it happens, Baz goes along with it because, let’s face it, Baz has been fantasizing about this for a while. It’s not until after that he realizes it was a huge fucking mistake.

Because there’s someone else out there for Simon Snow. Someone golden.

Not him.

The next morning Snow is leaning in to kiss Baz again. It takes all of his willpower to push him away.

“We can’t do this, Snow.”

“And why the hell not?” he questions like it’s really that simple.

“Because… you — you have someone else that’s out there. Waiting for you.”

Snow looks at his soulmark. “This thing? Fuck it. Penny once told me I shouldn’t let my soulmark influence my decisions.”

“This isn’t your decision,” Baz says. “It’s mine.”

“And fuck your decision too because that’s not what you said yesterday.”

“I was mentally unstable.”

“You’re always mentally unstable,” Snow quips. “Just shut up and kiss me, Baz.”

Baz is weak. So weak. It’s all Snow’s fault.

He kisses him anyway.

. . .

Bunce figures it out. Somehow.

“I mean, the way you looked when he said no one was seducing a vampire. It’s Simon, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you, Bunce,” Baz says, which is not an answer.

“Is he your soulmate?”

“I never said anything about soulmates.”

“Who else could it be.”

“It could be Dev. Or Niall. Or the Mage.”

Penelope frowns. “Ew. Please don’t ever give me that mental image again.”

“If it helps it sounded bitter in my mouth, too.”

Bunce shakes her head. Then she veers back on topic. “So what are you going to do about Simon?”

“What  _ am  _ I going to do? I haven’t done anything for years and it’s worked out just fine.”

“No, I mean, what are you going to do about his obvious desperate attraction toward you?” 

“What the fuck do you mean?” Had Bunce noticed something about Snow he didn’t?

“Come on. I had to limit you to 10% of our conversations. He’s so in love with you. And just because his soulmark says  _ golden  _ doesn’t mean you can’t be soulmates! It could be romantic thoughts… there are many different kinds of soulmarks, you know.”

Baz had completely forgotten, if he’s being honest. “So you think — I might have a soulmate back?”

Bunce nods. “I think you do. And I think it’s Simon.”

. . .

“I have a confession to make,” Baz blurts on the night of the Leaver’s Ball.

“You’re going to kill me now, aren’t you?” Snow jokes.

“Shut up and just look.”

Baz points his wand to where his soulmark should be. “ **_Show yourself!_ ** ”

The bandage becomes visible. Snow is staring at it with wide eyes. With a shaky hand, Baz unravels it.

The words  _ Simon Snow  _ stand out on his wrist, inky black, in all their glory for the first time since fifth year.

“Aleister Crowley,” Simon breathes. 

Then he’s kissing Baz.

_ fin _

  
  
  



End file.
